Mexico's Tarahumara are a people in need

Updated 12:23 am, Sunday, October 28, 2012

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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“It’s very bad. I just traded some chile pequins for a kilo of flour. We have some squash and a little corn, but no beans.” — Chayo Torres, 26, (left) with a toddler in her arms, who had just finished bartering for something to eat

Chayo Torres, 25, holds infant son Daniel in the settlement of El Arenal de Los Lupes near Batopilas, Mexico. The Tarahumara have historically lived through cyclical waves of hunger.

Chayo Torres, 25, holds infant son Daniel in the settlement of El Arenal de Los Lupes near Batopilas, Mexico. The Tarahumara have historically lived through cyclical waves of hunger.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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Texan Pilar Pedersen watches as corn is distributed.

Texan Pilar Pedersen watches as corn is distributed.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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A gravel road winds up the Sierra Tarahumara out of Batopilas Canyon in Mexico. The drug war has affected the area, and on a recent weekend, a battle between rival gangs forced the closure of the road.

A gravel road winds up the Sierra Tarahumara out of Batopilas Canyon in Mexico. The drug war has affected the area, and on a recent weekend, a battle between rival gangs forced the closure of the road.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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Some Tarahumara gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico. The bimonthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development start at around 800 pesos and rise according to a family’s size and other factors.

Some Tarahumara gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico. The bimonthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development start at around 800 pesos and rise according to a family’s size and other factors.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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Tarahumaras hang out at the town's plaza in Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, held the annual public address by Mayor Leonel Hernandez. With it came free food and music until late Saturday. The once-popular tourist destination remains largely untouched by modernity. With the drug war crisis affecting the area and the rest of the country, tourism has come to a standstill. "It's a hugh crisis for Batopilas. Tourism supports a lot of people. It's very severe and the government can do very little," said city administrator Rafael Gastelum.

Tarahumaras hang out at the town's plaza in Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, held the annual public address by Mayor Leonel Hernandez. With it

Under the watch of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a 15-day-old baby girl lies on the family's bed made out of wood and cardboard in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. Her mother, Maria Reyes Lopez Ortiz, 21, said they still had not named the baby. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, was once a popular tourist destination. With the drug war crisis affecting the area and the rest of the country, tourism has come to a standstill. "It's a hugh crisis for Batopilas. Tourism supports a lot of people. It's very severe and the government can do very little," said city administrator Rafael Gastelum.

Under the watch of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a 15-day-old baby girl lies on the family's bed made out of wood and cardboard in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. Her mother, Maria Reyes Lopez Ortiz, 21,

People gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. The bi-monthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development, (SEDESOL), start at around 800 pesos and rises according to family size and other factors. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, was once a popular tourist destination. With the drug war crisis affecting the area and the rest of the country, tourism has come to a standstill. "It's a hugh crisis for Batopilas. Tourism supports a lot of people. It's very severe and the government can do very little," said city administrator Rafael Gastelum.

People gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. The bi-monthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development, (SEDESOL), start at around 800 pesos and rises according to family

Tarahumaras gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. The bi-monthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development, (SEDESOL), start at around 800 pesos and rises according to family size and other factors. Most of the Tarahumaras shun living in towns like Batopilas and prefer their isolated settlements in the surrounding highlands. The handouts also coincided with Batopila's state of the municipality report by Mayor Leonel Hernandez. Music and free food was provided throughout the night.

Tarahumaras gather for government handouts in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. The bi-monthly handouts by Ministry of Social Development, (SEDESOL), start at around 800 pesos and rises according to

Tarahumara women and men gather as corn is distributed in the settlement of Santa Rita in the Sierra Tarahumara near Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Pilar Pedersen, 59, of Alpine, Texas, solicited donation through advertisement placed in several Big Bend area newspapers. A frequent visitor to the area, she saw how the drought affected the Tarahumaras in the surrounding settlements. It was the second such trip she made with food donations. Last January, she was able to collect $6,000, enough to buy 10 metric tons of corn. "The last time people were really hungry. There was no water, There had been no harvest. They'd used all their precious maize which is life to them," she said. The Batopilas government helps with the distribution of the corn.

Tarahumara women and men gather as corn is distributed in the settlement of Santa Rita in the Sierra Tarahumara near Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Pilar Pedersen, 59, of Alpine, Texas, solicited

Tarahumara women gather as corn is distributed in the settlement of Santa Rita in the Sierra Tarahumara near Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Pilar Pedersen, 59, of Alpine, Texas, solicited donation through advertisement placed in several Big Bend area newspapers. A frequent visitor to the area, she saw how the drought affected the Tarahumaras in the surrounding settlements. It was the second such trip she made with food donations. Last January, she was able to collect $6,000, enough to buy 10 metric tons of corn. "The last time people were really hungry. There was no water, There had been no harvest. They'd used all their precious maize which is life to them," she said. The Batopilas government helps with the distribution of the corn.

Dr. Saul Vargas guides a mule out of truck in Batopilas, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012. Mules and horses were transported down the Batopilas Canyon for a trail ride retracing a 350-mile, 15-day torturous route followed a century ago by muleskinners hauling silver ingots to the city of Chihuahua.

Tarahumara childen hang out on a rock in the settlement of El Arenal de Los Lupes, near Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The Tarahumara have historically lived through cyclical waves of hunger that was exacerbated by the drought last year. "It was very bad here. You know the Tarahumara. They don't like to ask the government for anything, but this year they really needed help, so they ask for it," said Batopilas city adminstrator Rafael Ruelas Gastelum.

Tarahumara childen hang out on a rock in the settlement of El Arenal de Los Lupes, near Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The Tarahumara have historically lived through cyclical waves of hunger that was

A Tarahumara family's interest is piqued by a visit from a Batopilas government official to El Arenal de Las Lupes settlement in the Sierra Tarahumara of Chihuahua, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012.

A Tarahumara family's interest is piqued by a visit from a Batopilas government official to El Arenal de Las Lupes settlement in the Sierra Tarahumara of Chihuahua, Mexico, Saturday, Oct. 6, 2012.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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Just a few mile south of Batopilas, Mexico is the settlement of Satevo and the Santo Angel Custodio de Satevo mission, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012.

Just a few mile south of Batopilas, Mexico is the settlement of Satevo and the Santo Angel Custodio de Satevo mission, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012.

Photo: Jerry Lara, San Antonio Express-News

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Miguel Galeano, 29, Leonel Gonzalez Montes, 13, and Beteran Dominguez Ortega, 19, wait for the start of a dinner hosted by the community of Batopilas, Mexico for trailriders, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. The trio was part of the trail ride retracing a 350-mile, 15-day torturous route followed a century ago by muleskinners hauling silver ingots to the city of Chihuahua.

Miguel Galeano, 29, Leonel Gonzalez Montes, 13, and Beteran Dominguez Ortega, 19, wait for the start of a dinner hosted by the community of Batopilas, Mexico for trailriders, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. The trio was

CONASUPO store supervisor, Juan Manuel Olivas, 28, center in back, directs Tarahumaras as they load 25-kilos bags of corn, at the store half and hour south of Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. The corn was bought by Alpine, Texas court-interpreter Pilar Pedersen with funds donated by Americans. It was to be distributed among three-communities in the Sierra Tarahumara. With the donations, she was able to buy two tons of corn. The bags also contained two-kilos of beans.

Tarahumara women and children run to catch a ride on their way to the isolated settlement of Santa Rita, Mexico in the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains of Chihuahua, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. An estimated 70,000 Tarahumara, who refer themselves as the Raramuri, occupy the Sierra Tarahumara. They exist in small community groups and rely on harvest of corn, beans and squash supplemented with livestock and chickens.

Tarahumara women and children run to catch a ride on their way to the isolated settlement of Santa Rita, Mexico in the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains of Chihuahua, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. An estimated 70,000

With Mexican soldiers guarding the town of Batopilas, Mexico, children play in the square, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Located at the bottom of a canyon by the Batopilas River, the once-popular tourist destination remains largely untouched by modernity. With drug gangs fighting for the plaza, tourism has come to a standstill. "It's a hugh crisis for Batopilas. Tourism supports a lot of people. It's very severe and the government can do very little," said city administrator Rafael Gastelum.

With Mexican soldiers guarding the town of Batopilas, Mexico, children play in the square, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Located at the bottom of a canyon by the Batopilas River, the once-popular tourist destination

Carlos Duarte Balderrama, 44, left, and Javier Balderrama Gonzalez, 44, arrive at the Batopilas, Mexico square for a dinner hosted by the community, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. They was part of the trail ride retracing a 350-mile, 15-day torturous route followed a century ago by muleskinners hauling silver ingots to the city of Chihuahua.

Carlos Duarte Balderrama, 44, left, and Javier Balderrama Gonzalez, 44, arrive at the Batopilas, Mexico square for a dinner hosted by the community, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. They was part of the trail ride

The settlement of Santa Rita blends with the surrounding Sierra Tarahumara about an hour and a half drive from Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Around 100 Tarahumaras live in the mountain top community. An estimated 70,000 Tarahumaras live in the Sierra Tarahumara, an area in the southwestern part of the Mexican state of Chihuahua. Existing on a crop of mostly corn and beans, the past drought brought with it mass hunger and suffering to a civilization struggling to survive.

The settlement of Santa Rita blends with the surrounding Sierra Tarahumara about an hour and a half drive from Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Around 100 Tarahumaras live in the mountain top community.

Julia Lopez dances with, Pedro Pallarez, during a dinner for trail riders in Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. They was part of the trail ride retracing a 350-mile, 15-day torturous route followed a century ago by muleskinners hauling silver ingots to the city of Chihuahua.

Julia Lopez dances with, Pedro Pallarez, during a dinner for trail riders in Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. They was part of the trail ride retracing a 350-mile, 15-day torturous route followed a

American Pilar Pedersen, 59, center, reacts as payment is made on two tons of corn at the CONASUPO store near Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Pedersen, of Alpine, Texas, solicited donation through advertisement placed in several Big Bend area newspapers. A frequent visitor to the area, she saw how the drought affected the Tarahumaras in the surrounding settlements. It was the second such trip she made with food donations. Last January, she was able to collect $6,000, enough to buy 10 metric tons of corn. "The last time people were really hungry. There was no water, There had been no harvest. They'd used all their precious maize which is life to them," she said. The Batopilas government helps with the distribution of the corn. With Pedersen are city administrator Rafael Gastelum, left, and CONASUPO supervisor Juan Manuel Olivas.

American Pilar Pedersen, 59, center, reacts as payment is made on two tons of corn at the CONASUPO store near Batopilas, Mexico, Monday, Oct. 8, 2012. Pedersen, of Alpine, Texas, solicited donation through

After a night of partying, young men hang out at the plaza in Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, held the annual public address by Mayor Leonel Hernandez. With it came free food and music until late Saturday. The once-popular tourist destination remains largely untouched by modernity. With the drug war crisis affecting the area and the rest of the country, tourism has come to a standstill. "It's a hugh crisis for Batopilas. Tourism supports a lot of people. It's very severe and the government can do very little," said city administrator Rafael Gastelum.

After a night of partying, young men hang out at the plaza in Batopilas, Mexico, Sunday, Oct. 7, 2012. The town, at the bottom of Batopilas Canyon in Chihuahua, held the annual public address by Mayor Leonel

On the ascent from the Batopilas River, semi-tropical plants had given way to mesquite, then to stunted oaks and maguey. At the airy summit, the silence was broken only by a distant rooster and a bell dangling from a grazing burro.

Although more than 100 Tarahumara live in the mountaintop settlement of Santa Rita, it appeared deserted, aside from a couple of women and children at the roadside.

“They don't have (two-way) radio up here. They didn't know we were coming,” noted Porfirio Mendez Enriquez, 45, in charge of indigenous affairs for the municipality of Batopilas.

Like a town crier of old, Mendez began shouting, in the tongue of his Tarahumara mother, an invitation to the four corners of Santa Rita.

“Come down, everyone come together, we have corn,” he hollered over and over.

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Like many Tarahumara communities, Santa Rita was hit hard last winter by a crushing drought. Food ran out and infants died, here and elsewhere in the vast Sierra Tarahumara.

In January, a false report of suicides triggered public and private food drives to save the Indians. President Felipe Calderón flew in, as did Enrique Peña Nieto, the incoming president.

The effort was criticized by the media as politicking, The Jesuits, who work closely with the Tarahumara, called the crisis overblown. But none of that was known or mattered to the people in Santa Rita in early October.

Responding to Mendez's calls, women in bold pastel-colored full blouses and dresses, some with and children slung in shawls, began approaching, while others, still too timid, watched from afar.

Drawing near, the women settled in among the gray boulders, looking like sudden blooms of mountain flowers after a summer rain.

Pilar Pedersen, 59, a court interpreter from Alpine who had brought donations from Texas for this corn purchase, following up on a larger relief mission in January, renewed a friendship from an earlier visit.

News was scant. Most of the men were away with the older children visiting a school. The last outsiders had come months ago, also bringing food. The primitive stone silos on the hillsides held little corn.

“Because of the insects, the harvest was not good. And a lot of people didn't plant because they did not have any seed corn,” said Marcial Mendoza Quimere, 40, wearing a western-style shirt and faded bill cap.

“Two children and three adults died here last year. And we will be hungry again in December and January. We will be completely without food,” he said.

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Known for their prowess at long-distance running, resistance to assimilation and dependence on subsistence farming, the Tarahumara have survived in Mexico long after other native people vanished.

“This race, which ought to be degenerate, has for 400 years resisted every force that has come to attack it: civilization, inbreeding, war, winter, animals, storms and the forest,” the admiring French writer Antonin Artaud noted more than seven decades ago.

Artaud had come to the Sierra in 1936 in search of a civilization that existed before the arrival of the Europeans, and later wrote a book, “The Peyote Dance,” about his experience.

An estimated 70,000 Tarahumara, who refer to themselves as the Rarámuri, occupy the Sierra Tarahumara, a vast region of pine forests, high peaks and deep canyons that centuries ago provided refuge from Western invaders.

Here, they exist in small community groups, relying on harvests of corn, beans and squash, supplemented with livestock and chickens, living in primitive shelters, and in general shunning outsiders.

Among their more noteworthy customs is the tesguinada, a raucous social event in which large quantities of corn beer are consumed in community gatherings. But Tarahumara now also can be seen dangling a six-pack.

In recent times, dangers unforeseen by Artaud have reached the Sierra Tarahumara.

Alcoholism, unregulated lumbering that causes erosion and deforestation, well-armed drug gangs who seize their corn plots to grow marijuana and the steady encroachment of outsiders all threaten the Tarahumara traditional way of life.

“The Indians have changed. Now they don't cook in the ollas (big clay pots), and some of them don't want to speak Rarámuri,” Mendez said.

While the Tarahumara are no stranger to hunger, in the past two decades, extreme dry cycles in northern Mexico have brought repeated rounds of suffering, triggering food drives on both sides of the border.

But it was the worst drought in 70 years, coupled with a brutal freeze in early 2011, that early this year brought many of the Tarahumara to their knees and afflicted thousands of other Mexicans as well.

According to the state government, more than 250,000 people in Chihuahua were affected by the drought, which extended to 19 states in Mexico.

But protest marches by campesinos, newspaper articles about the growing crisis and frantic calls for help from local officials and activists brought little government relief to the drought-afflicted areas.

According to some activists, the deadly effects of the failed 2011 harvests were foreseen months earlier when Tarahumara mothers began bringing sick and starving babies to regional clinics late last year.

But it took a dramatic digital shout-out — that later proved false — to pierce the nation's conscience and ignite what quickly became a cause célèbre involving a host of private, state and federal relief agencies.

False suicide report

When in mid-January, a Chihuahuan activist named Ramon Gardea announced in a news conference that 50 starving Tarahumara already had committed suicide, the account went viral, stoking indignation and sympathy.

The story proved to be fiction, but the desperate plight of the poorest of the Mexican poor quickly became international news and a political hot potato in an election year.

Calderón and his wife visited the region in January, becoming the first Mexican president to set foot in Batopilas. Peña Nieto, then running as the PRI candidate for president, also came.

Articles in the national magazine Proceso described Indian babies arriving at clinics with bloated bellies and pencil-like limbs, some with diarrhea and pneumonia as well.

Proceso also took public officials to task, first for their tardy response to the crisis and then for the apparent politicization of the relief effort.

According to the Jesuits in Creel, who have worked with the Tarahumara for decades, the crisis was both exaggerated and mismanaged.

“Certainly there was a very serious drought, but the indigenous always live in a situation of poverty and malnutrition, and this year wasn't really that different,” said Guillermo Estrada, director of the Santa Teresita Clinic in Creel. “The difference is, the false reports of the suicides really brought a lot of public attention. We were overwhelmed with food, but the stories about massive deaths and famine like in Africa were false.”

Avila, who has worked for 37 years with the Tarahumara, also is a human-rights activist, a role that has brought death threats.

He works out of a small office, watched by security cameras, next to the Catholic Church on Creel's main square. Here, tour guides pester tourists and a few Tarahumara peddle handicrafts.

Avila said his appeals for help to the state government last fall fell on deaf ears. And, when relief finally arrived, he said, it was without good planning or consultation with the Jesuits.

“In late January, the government began to distribute food, just handing it out of trucks without figuring out if it was needed or not,” he said.

He said the relief effort, which he likened to “firemen responding to an emergency,” revealed the dearth of well-designed programs for the Tarahumara.

“They are just dealing with the effects, not with the causes. The reality is there are no good policies in place,” he added.

And, he said, giving away food is contrary to all the Jesuits have learned over many decades.

“Only children, widows and old people receive food from us without having to work. Those who can work must work to receive food,” he said. “We've given away over 500 metric tons of corn, beans and rice this year, but always in exchange for work. They build dams, erosion retaining walls, they clear the woods, and they make firebreaks.”

Meanwhile, in Mexico City, Isaac Oxenhaut, national aid coordinator for the Mexican Red Cross, is carefully monitoring the Sierra Tarahumara.

“If the rains don't continue, we'll have to resume the food campaign,” he said of the Red Cross, which has been distributing beans, grains, milk and chocolate. “We were involved from December to March of this year, and we are now entering the difficult months.”

Bartering for food

Late last year, Pedersen, a visitor to Batopilas since 1999, put a small advertisement in several Big Bend-area newspapers, asking for donations for the Tarahumara. A Copper Canyon tour guide also raised some funds.

In mid-January, she came with $6,000, enough to buy 10 metric tons of corn.

“The last time people were really hungry. There was no water. There had been no harvest. They'd used all their precious maize which is life to them.”

After the salt and corn had been distributed in January, the hungry Tarahumara expressed their appreciation, one by one.

“They said ‘thank you' from their hearts and it came through their eyes. It pierced me,” she recalled.

Since then, summer rains have brought some relief. During a brief October visit, pastures and milpas (corn patches) were green. To an outsider, there were no obvious signs of malnutrition or want.

But some Tarahumara already are running out of food.

At El Arenal de Los Lupes, a small settlement of adobe huts near Batopilas, women cooked on outdoor wood stoves while barefoot boys idled in the shade.

Chayo Torres, 26, a tiny woman with jet-black hair and a toddler in arms, had just finished bartering for something to eat.

“It's very bad. I just traded some chile pequins for a kilo of flour. We have some squash and a little corn, but no beans,” she said.

Torres has no doubt the community will soon need help.

Driving away from the settlement,” Rafael Ruelas Gastélum, 39, a Batopilas city administrator, said the Tarahumara often are forced to exist in the present, just trying to stay alive.

“The Indians are worried about getting something to eat today. They can't worry about tomorrow or next week. They live in the present. They don't worry about the future,” he said.

Ruelos shuddered at memories of the recent crisis.

“It was very bad here. You know the Tarahumara. They don't like to ask the government for anything, but this year they really needed help, so they asked for it. That tells you how bad things were. It was the worst crisis in the last 30 years,” he said.

Gratitude in Santa Rita

The daylong food distribution run that ended in Santa Rita had begun that morning at a Conasupo store, a half-hour south of Batopilas, where Pedersen bought corn and beans with money from Texas.

Taking a break after loading 2 tons of corn into 100 large white bags, Juan Manuel Olivas, 28, who runs the store, which offers government subsidized goods, recalled last winter.

“The people had no money. We took goats, chickens and sheep in exchange for corn. Some we ate, the rest we sold,” he said. “I'm doing this to help the people. I'm making almost nothing.”

Waiting nearby with several dozen Tarahumara, Patrocinio Lopez, 51, a leader and noted violin maker from the nearby community of Coyachique, said the green of summer is an illusion.

“The same crisis is still with us. The harvest was very bad. In my house there is little food,” he said, wearing a bright orange blouse and white zepete, the white skirt-like wrap worn by men. “I'm hoping for snow so it will kill the grasshoppers and worms.”

Then, in orderly fashion, the Tarahumara each shouldered a heavy sack of corn and beans, and headed back into the mountains, up trails visible from the road that would have daunted a mountain burro.

Hours later, the distribution run ended with the mountaintop visit to Santa Rita. Eventually, adults representing about 30 families formed a ragged line behind the pickup, each receiving a sack holding 25 kilograms of corn and 5 kilograms of beans.

Batopilas Mayor Leonel Hernandez made a short speech. Pedersen spoke words of friendship. Group photographs were taken, thanks were offered and gentle handshakes were exchanged.

Soon the yellow pickup was barreling down the mountain, with Hernandez at the wheel.

The mayor, who said his remote municipality of 17,000 is about two-thirds Tarahumara, noted that four years ago, Batopilas had the highest infant mortality rate in Mexico. He said it is regularly ranked as one of the poorest municipalities.

And while hunger and want are familiar neighbors in the Sierra Tarahumara, he said, last winter was one of the worst. But soon another hard season would arrive.

“We had a lot of children die in the drought, some were stillborn and others died when they were very small because of intestinal illnesses,” he recalled.

“If it doesn't rain this winter, we'll go back to drought. The problems will return. The Tarahumara lost a lot of their animals because of the drought and the poor people don't have any food saved up.”